


The Legend Begins

by wayfared



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Gen, Original Universe, Zine, Zine: Song of Heroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-15 04:30:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20860268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wayfared/pseuds/wayfared
Summary: Five gatherings around five campfires of the paladins' past lives regale the myths of the Rift God and Voltron thousands of years ago. A shaker, a lion’s paw leaf, a cave, a jewel necklace, and a vision.Part two of "In the Beginning."





	The Legend Begins

**Author's Note:**

> I am so absolutely excited to post my part in the VLD zine Song of Heroes! This my first zine and such a blast. I loved participating in creating the lore behind the Song of Heroes universe, and when I received the zine in the mail it was unreal to see my words and everyone's on the pages, not to mention the beautiful art.
> 
> Thank you to the moderators for their fantastic zine and management, and thank you to the lore team for the hours we spent creating this world, because like honestly it cemented a bit of my love for writing. Thank you also to my artist Lynn [solaert](https://solaert.tumblr.com/) for creating the absolutely unreal stained glass art that pairs with this. And thank you to Zen [zenstrike](https://zenstrike.tumblr.com/) for beta-ing and helping me cut it down! I love you and you continue to inspire me. 
> 
> This story is set up as a flashback explaining the lore of Karthulia with the past lives of the paladins, so while they're not directly in this piece, I think you can pick up pretty easily who is who ;). This is also part two of "In the Beginning."

As the sun simmered low on the horizon, a fire danced in the pit dug in the white beach sands paces away from the waves lapping the shore. Before the pit, a woman clasping a wooden shaker perched on the edge of a stool. She overlooked the shallow amphitheater nestled against the beach, warmed by the fire.

The man behind her tugged at his instrument’s strings, gentle plucks wafting through the air as the amphitheater filled. Children tumbled down to the front row, crossing legs over ankles to crowd the musicians. The adults hung back and lazily passed drinks and dinner leftovers between them.

“Hush!” one hissed, and quiet fell over the children as the man plucked the strings in earnest. “Rosel is about to speak!”

Rosel smiled sweetly and shivered her shaker. As the sun dipped lower, caramel sizzling over the ocean and bathing the sky in blushes, royals, and golds, she gestured with an arm draped in translucent cloth. The children craned to see the small, aged statue wedged against the base of an old knotted tree leaning over the sands--the shrine watching over their beach.

“Do you feel the Blue Lion God?” she asked, the warm strings weaving between her words. “He’s with us tonight. Do you feel him?”

“We feel him!” the children giggled. At the front of the crowd, a boy thrust out his hands and mimed petting the mane of a lion.

“He’s soft!” the boy yelled.

“He wants to tell the Legend of Voltron,” Rosel said. “Lunaz, will you join me?”

“Yes!” Lunaz squealed.

Rosel smiled and faced the gathering, shaker poised.

“Before Karthulia, there were the Gods.” Her syrupy voice boomed as she drummed her fingers along the shaker. “Before the Gods, there was the Creator."

. . .

“A _creator_?” Peta asked incredulously. Her father shrugged as he puttered around the table across the room from the hearth, his eyeglass extended to peer at the contraption on the table.

“Yes, well, that’s what they say,” Halt said. “There was a first Creator, and they, I assume, gave birth to the other gods.”

Peta’s older brother, Mitia, wrinkled his nose in disgust as he shuffled closer to the open mouth of the hearth. The chill bit through their father’s workshop this late at night, but he had promised to tell the story before their mother ushered them to bed. At least the fire still thrived on the wood blocks they occasionally threw in.

“That’s not how procreation works,” Peta deadpanned. Halt laughed, and something crashed onto the dirt floor.

“Ah, shoot… Anyway! There was a first Creator, and I suppose they created the other Gods asexually. The two main Gods were the Rift God of Chaos and Voltron of Order.”

“That doesn’t sound like a good idea!” Mitia interrupted. “Chaos only ruins order!”

“Don’t blame it on me!” Halt laughed again. “Peta, will you come help me? Anyhow, those were two among many Gods, but they are the most important to the legend. Thank you, Peta, just hold that down…”

. . .

“The Rift God and Voltron were born as two sides of the same coin,” Kalda whispered, her words dissipating into the rain roaring outside. She clutched the small boy in her arms to her body and carded her fingers through his matted hair. “But they got along like the Oil and Water Spirits: not at all.”

He shuddered and she gritted her teeth. Pausing in her story, she shoveled a portion of kindling with the edge of her dagger into the fire at the center of the cave. The flames whimpered pitifully, but there hadn’t been enough time to gather dry wood before the thunder had cracked above their heads.

“While they separated, the Rift God created living creatures just like us,” she continued, her hand returning to pet the cold skin of his cheeks. “They created your lungs to breathe, your lips to smile. They created you to be my child, both Galra and human.”

In her arms, he gave a flicker of a smile. She edged closer to the fire.

“But the Rift God is fickle. They sought chaos elsewhere. They left us in the lands of Karthulia to find our own way.” Kalda glanced to the sheets of rain outside the cave entrance, obscuring the rocky mountains beyond. “Just as we do now. We survive.”

The kindling curled into charred remains, and she warily noticed the rapidly depleting store.

“Do you remember what happened next, Kayo?”

Kayo yawned and scrunched his tired nose. “The Atlans, right?”

“The _Alteans_,” she chuckled. “You’re almost there. Yes, Voltron arrived, and with them they created the Alteans. They did a little more than that, though.”

. . .

When Hurion’s father, Oushe, tossed another piece of dry dung into the fire, the flames ballooned and glinted against the blue jewels gathered around his neck and forehead. He clasped his hands over his knees and observed each family member gathered around the pit.

“Voltron brought stability to this great land,” he finally said, his heavy eyes settling on Hurion, who hurriedly looked away. “Without the great God who saw our true destiny, chaos would return to the land and threaten to tear our civilization apart.”

Oushe gestured grandly towards the canyon valley below the steep cliff at the edge of their village where the last dregs of the sunset bathed the canyon walls in streaks of crimson and indigo. Though Oushe meant the similar villages nestled into the cliffs, Hurion’s eyes followed the river carving through the canyon until it disappeared around a bend.

To his left, his younger sister sighed in awe as she parsed through a small hill of raw gemstones. Her sleek black hair and the amber gem in her hand danced in the firelight.

“At least one of my children understands the importance of our history,” Oushe grumbled, eying Hurion.

“Tell us about Voltron,” his sister said. Oushe smiled, the deep lines of his eyes crinkling, and cast his gaze again to the canyon.

“The mighty God Voltron, the savior of Karthulia,” he sighed, his voice ringing with reverence. “They were twice the size of the Rift God and twice as strong.”

. . .

“Five times the size of the Rift God, ten times as strong!” Rosel sang amidst the man’s rapid strums. “The people of Azra’ watched them land, hands extended to their people.”

The children stretched their arms as far as they could manage.

“Rifty never knew what was coming for ‘em!” Lunaz cried, windmilling his arms.

“Slow down, Lunaz! We’re not there yet,” she laughed. “Voltron of the sky, of peace in times of chaos. One God with powers unforetold. They blew the wind in Azra’s sails, stoked the flames of Aschenwelt. They sowed the plains of Dilaw and grew the apothecaries of Luntian. Voltron gave wisdom to the Alteans of Kala!”

She floated from her stool and weaved through the children. As she talked, her hands moved with the sail’s winds or the crop fields. 

Behind Lunaz, a girl twisted the soft blue fabric draped over her lap in her hands and hissed to another, “Who are the Alt-ayans?”

The other shrugged.

When the strumming dropped to a dissonant chord and Rosel rattled her shaker, the children gasped.

“But the Rift God returned. When the people of Karthulia settled, the God of Chaos rose and…”

. . .

“You’re telling me that Voltron could do all that?” Mitia sniffed. He threw another block in the hearth and peered at the crackling flames. “Voltron could make a fire bigger?”

“Not just a fire,” Halt said. “Small acts of magic, big acts of magic. They could heat your mug of tea. Legend has it Voltron grew Aunt Felio’s tree.”

“No way,” Peta scoffed. “That old canopy rain tree?”

“Yep,” Halt confirmed. “Hand me that leaf, will you? I’m not sure I believe it, but that’s what the legend says.”

“What happened next?” Peta asked as she handed it to her father. She fished another leaf out of the jar and pinched it between her fingers, studying the veins winding up the green flesh and poking out the ends, almost like a lion’s paw. She wondered…

“The Rift God returned and saw all the communities, agriculture, urban cities and sprawling villages. Everything from our gardens to Dilaw’s mines.” He poked at the eyeglass, fitted with a clear gem from the depths of Dilaw. “They were angry at all the good Voltron had done. So, given the Rift God’s nature—”

“They destroyed it!” Mitia interrupted.

“Not so fast!” Halt smiled as he poked at his invention. “They were not so powerful. These Gods can thrive off worship, and by that time all the people, Galrans and humans and Alteans alike, worshipped Voltron. Voltron was too powerful.”

. . .

“When the Rift God returned, they needed more power to overcome Voltron.” Kalda dropped her voice low and ominous, drawing a peal of empty laughter from Kayo. “And then came Zarkon, the most fearless Galra of them all. He was a paladin of Voltron, devoted to the God, but more devoted to himself and his people. With the Rift God’s power, the demi-god believed he could rule everyone for the better. His wife, Haggar, and his son, Lotor, could not stop him.”

Kayo’s eyes widened, but only slightly. When Kalda searched for the familiar spark behind his drooping eyelids, it was gone. She stoked the fire again, but it didn’t leap forward. When she reached for more kindling, her shaking fingers met the dirt floor.

“Zarkon gave every piece of himself over to the Rift God. First, his left foot.” Kayo giggled. “Then, his nose.” She poked his nose. “Then, his stomach, his brain. His heart. Soon, the Rift God and Zarkon rose together as one.”

. . .

“The Rift God drained Zarkon of all his power and wealth. For what? Nothing,” Oushe spat, the jewels jostling around his neck. “They overthrew the peace and stability of Karthulia... and Voltron could not hold them off for long."

. . .

“But the remaining four paladins of Voltron, the chosen ones to guard and devote themselves to the God of Peace, joined Voltron against the evil forces of the Rift God and Zarkon,” Rosel said, voice rising above the guitar. “In Kala, they met for battle!”

Lunaz pounded his chest and another child hopped to their feet, winding her fists up and giggling.

“I am the Rift God, and Zarkon and I will beat you up!” she shrieked.

“I’m Voltron. My paladins and I will beat you up first!” Lunaz yelled, baring his gapped teeth.

“The Gods of Peace and Chaos clashed,” Rosel continued, and the two kids lunged for each other, rolling onto the ground in a fit of laughter as the fire pit danced behind them. “All of Karthulia watched as they fought!”

. . .

“I wanna see it,” Kayo whined between forced coughs. Kalda set him gently down and looked around wildly, crawling along the wall to find any dry leaf.

“They fought so terrible. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to be there,” she said. There, beneath a rock. A small leaf, hardly enough for a spark. Still, she cupped it in her hands. “The fight ended in an explosion that blew the earth apart. You would have to cover your ears, it was so loud. When everyone opened their eyes, they saw Kala had been blasted into the sky.”

“The Kala Islands?”

“Yes, Kayo. Those are the Kala Islands, the remains of a once beautiful land. No one lives there anymore. Not even you would like it, my little rebel.”

She fed the leaf to the feeble fire, expecting nothing. But when it settled onto the burnt kindling, bright flames _wooshed_ forward and flooded the cave with a crackling warmth. Kalda jolted back, bewildered. Had her leaf done that? Kayo watched the flames curiously, though he couldn’t muster the energy to react.

“But who won?” he asked.

. . .

“Voltron won, but at a great price,” Oushe said gravely. He tore a piece of meat from the skewer Hurion’s uncle passed him. “The Rift God was defeated, but now, Voltron is gone.”

Hurion’s sister must have heard this a thousand times, but she still listened with rapt interest, her eyes like geode halves as they imagined the final moments of the Rift God and Voltron.

. . .

“In a burst of light, Voltron shattered, and one became five... Five Gods scattered to the farthest reaches of Karthulia! The people gathered around each lion and formed their nations.” She paused, drawing out the shakes long and slow. “Azra’ of the Blue Lion. The Dilaw Plains--”

“Of the Yellow Lion!” Lunaz sang, the children and scattered adults joining in.

“Luntian.”

“Of the Green Lion!”

“The Aschenwelt Empire.”

“Of the Red Lion!”

“And the Kala Islands.”

“Of the Black Lion!”

. . .

“Legend says the five pieces of Voltron guard over each of their lands,” Halt said, folding his eyepiece and setting it on the table. “And they appear to us as lions in our times of need. A Green Lion, with a mane like jilly grass, though that seems most unlikely… Peta, will you look into this lens and tell me why I can’t see the leaf?”

Peta squinted into the rough cut glass at a black spot where a magnified image of the lion’s paw leaf should be. She pursed her lips and examined her father’s invention. On the side, there missed a lever that might turn the glass around.

As her father left in search of the missing piece, he muttered about the incredible idea of magic and appearing lions. Peta hummed and searched the table top. This little piece of wood might do, but it wasn’t the right shape… She picked up a knife to round out the edge, but as she put blade to grain, the wood glowed a subtle green. When she blinked, it would slot perfectly into place.

Huh. The light from the hearth must have glanced off the gem in the eyeglass. She fitted it into the right spot and called her father over.

“And what then?” she asked, peering through the lens to the intricate details of the lion’s paw leaf.

. . .

“Over time, Karthulia rebuilt again. We rose in the wake of the Rift God and became the strong, stable nation we are today. Be cautioned, Hurion, of what lays beyond Dilaw,” Oushe warned. He pointed the skewer at his eldest son. “Aschenwelt does not have what we have. Look at our land, at our canyon. It is a good canyon.”

“Yeah, Hurion,” his sister teased.

“I love Dilaw,” Hurion replied fiercely. “But we already know this story. You’ve told us a million times.”

“Because it is important to know where we come from! Dilaw was in peril, but now we are whole again, and we must work hard to remain this way.”

“But won’t Voltron come back again?” Hurion asked, curiosity fighting though his teeth.

“They’re myths, son,” Oushe dismissed. “They explain our past and how we are.”

. . .

“I want to be a paladin of Voltron,” Lunaz sighed as sleep tugged at his eyelids. Rosel kneeled before him, her shaker resting on the stool, and gathered him in her arms. “The Blue Lion’s paladin!”

“Perhaps in another life,” she said with a soft smile. “Now, it is bedtime.”

. . .

A pitiful flame crept over the dark coals, but it failed to fend off the snapping chill sweeping through the decrepit stone hut where they sheltered from the coarse tundra. Shul drew his knees tighter into himself and frowned at the two on the other side of the fire. One Galra, one human, both dressed in the same rags, smeared dirt, and metal bracelets as him.

“So that’s it?” he asked glumly. “Voltron and the Rift God are gone?”

“Nah,” Raz, the Galra, said, a sly smile on his scarred lips. “I heard a rumor around the other prisoners on this floating rock. You ever wondered what happened to Haggar and Lotor after the fight?”

“No…”

“I heard that Lotor might have stuck around.” Raz waggled his bushy eyebrows. “The son of Zarkon, to rise again and bring the Rift God with him. What, you scared, Shully?”

“Don’t tease him,” the human, Klo, reprimanded.

But before she finished, her voice evaporated. Shul stiffened as the crumbling stones bled and swirled into a...

A place underground, somewhere he did not recognize. A pulsing purple coffin sat in the center of the room, and a human-like figure laid beneath foggy glass. _Lotor_, he thought, though he did not know how he thought it.

Lotor’s eyes snapped open. They seethed yellow and sliced through the haze of purple into Shul’s eyes, striking terror through his chest.

_Not yet, Shul_, a voice rumbled in his mind, though it seemed to echo all around him.

As quickly as they materialized, Lotor’s eyes disintegrated, and the coffin melted into Raz and Klo’s curious expressions. It was like Shul had never left the hut at all. 

“You okay, Shul?” Raz asked.

“Y-yeah,” he stuttered.

“There’s no reason a kid should be in a camp on the Kala Islands,” Klo grumbled. “And this fire is terrible.”

“If Lotor were here, he’d free us,” Raz said. Klo rolled her eyes.

“I’ll put my money on the Black Lion,” she said.

“Yeah, sure. When all the Lions finally rejoin, which is when? Even Shul knows …”

Shul trained his stricken eyes on the fire. A warmth he couldn’t pinpoint coursed through his veins, from the tips of his exposed toes to the ends of his overgrown hair. He tightened his grip on his knees. It felt like the fire leapt and swirled from his heart outward.

“There you go, Shul.” Raz’s muffled words wormed into his ears. “That’s the Legend of Voltron.”

When Shul dreamed that night, he dreamed of a fire, all encompassing. He dreamed of coals beneath his feet, flames licking his palms, and a figure taller than ten huts extending a hand he did not recognize.

_Not yet,_ the Black Lion told him. _But soon._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Check out the other zine pieces in the collection. Find me, other works, and chat on my [Tumblr](https://voltronseatbelts.tumblr.com/), and kudos and comments are always, always appreciated.


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